


The Way to Say I Love You

by wewereneverhomeless (hopewithfeathers)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-23
Updated: 2013-10-23
Packaged: 2017-12-30 05:39:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1014785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopewithfeathers/pseuds/wewereneverhomeless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are only certain ways that Dean can say "I love you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way to Say I Love You

Dean used to say it all the time. He remembers when Sam was little, couldn’t be more than three or four, climbing into Dean’s lap and saying it through spit-slick fingers. Sam wiped his hand all over his ratty teddy bear (second-hand that Dean had bought at a gas station stop with his own allowance) and beamed at Dean with bright eyes, a toothy smile. 

“I love you, De.” 

It wasn’t the first time Sam said those words, and it wasn’t the last. But it’s the first time Dean thought about what the words really meant before he said them. Sam was his little brother, Dean knew that, but it was more than that. Sam was the kid he let crawl all over him in the middle of the night, no matter how hot the motel room was. Sam was the kid he changed the sheets for if he wet the bed without complaint. Sam was the kid he kissed on the cheek every night without fail (and whenever else Sam asked), even though Dean was getting a little old to be kissing his baby brother. Sam was the first thought he had when he woke up, and the last thought he had when he fell asleep at night. Sam was his world. His everything. He knew it even then. 

“I love you, too, Sammy.” Dean kissed his cheek, and maybe he lingered a little longer than usual, but Sam squealed in happiness and twined his wet fingers into Dean’s clean shirt. Dean just smiled and hugged his brother close. 

None of it has changed. Okay, so Sam’s a little bigger and he doesn’t wet the bed anymore, and he certainly doesn’t climb on Dean’s lap asking for kisses. Dean can’t remember the last time he told Sam he loved him. It’s implied, Sam knows he loves him, at least that’s what Dean tries to tell himself. Those words scare him more than they ever did when Sam was small—now they mean something so much deeper, something Sam can’t know. He’s never allowed to know. 

When he was little, Dean never thought his love would come to this. He never thought he’d be begging to sell his soul for his little brother, trading his entire life for Sam’s happiness (which, of course, he learns later, he’s an idiot for thinking his brother would be happy). He hesitates, he does. Because he’s terrified. But he knows from the moment the demon offers her deal that he’ll say yes. He’ll do anything for Sam. He says I love you to his brother with a kiss to a demon and his heart pounding. 

And isn’t that just fucked up? 

He tells Sam with desperate eyes, don’t hate me, don’t hate me, I couldn’t let you die Sammy, I couldn’t, and Sam says I love you back with an I’d do anything for you and Dean smiles wide, breathes a little easier. 

Dean says I love you with careful fingers on Sam’s wounds, bandaging them with skilled, tender hands. Sam says it back with a mumbled “thank you” and a stroke of Dean’s hair that Dean doesn’t want to think about. They say I love you in the car with bumped knees, with Dean letting Sam drool all over the Impala’s seat, and wide grins, singing at the top of their lungs when a song comes on the radio. 

Dean says I love you by letting Sam go, by letting him decide for himself. Sam, all earnest protectiveness and It’s okay Dean, it’s gonna be okay, I got him, says it back with arms flung wide, falling backwards into a hole in the ground and all Dean can think is he wishes Sam loved him a little less. 

Dean’s shocked when Sam doesn’t care whether he lives or dies, so shocked that he can barely get the words out. He nearly says the words then, but Sam falls into his arms with a exhausted gasp and Dean can’t do anything except clutch him back. I love you, I love you, he thinks, but says We’ll figure it out, instead. And they do. 

It’s the most ordinary thing when it finally happens. Sam is sitting across from him at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of coffee and smiling at something stupid he’s reading in the paper—something so normal, but for Dean it’s the best thing he’s seen in months. Maybe years. Sam laughs a little then, his dimples showing, and Dean laughs, too. He feels his chest swelling like it’s actually getting bigger, until he thinks he’s going to explode. His cheeks hurt from smiling. Sam meets his gaze across the table, something sweet in his eyes, and it kind of comes tumbling out. He says I love you with socked foot against Sam’s leg and a mouth tasting of coffee, but this time it’s not just that. 

“Hey, I love you, you know?” 

Dean expects surprise on Sam’s face. And while Sam’s face lights up like it’s the greatest thing he’s ever heard, he’s not surprised. Sam beams, brightening the entire kitchen with it, and says it back. Just like that. 

“I love you, too.” 

Dean wonders why in the world he didn’t say it earlier. Sam smiles wider at him, reaching across the table and grabbing Dean’s hand, and then, Dean realizes, he did. Sam knows, and Dean knows, and that’s all that ever really matters, anyway.


End file.
